


Nightsongs

by Rainah (RainahFiclets)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/F, Help I'm in rarepair hell, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-09-28 15:05:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10125113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainahFiclets/pseuds/Rainah
Summary: They call Angelica a pirate, a witch, a temptress that holds the souls of men in thrall to captain ships with sails as dark as midnight.They call John a ghost, a spirit reanimated by Night Queen's magics. Her first mate on ships crewed by the damned.It's legend, mostly. She's got no more magic than any person you'd grab off the street, and she is more focused on helping John heal than holding him in thrall. Her ships are crewed by freedom seekers, by adventurers, by people who've found they can't live a normal life. Until they take Maria Lewis and Aaron Burr captive on a raid...





	1. The Attack

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, as always to Oaxara who betas and nurtures this, and to Karli who lets me bounce things off her. You're both wonderful.
> 
> Non musical characters in the fic  
> Ria - Maria Cosway, an Italian painter who was good friends with Angelica  
> William North and Benjamin Walker - historically, two of Von Steuben's lovers  
> 'John', obviously, refers to John Laurens and not John Church (or any other Johns jfc there are a lot)

**May 17th, 1782**

They call her the Night's Queen. She attacks under the cover of darkness, with black sails that make her ships all but invisible against the night sky. Some call her the Night’s Witch, certain that her power comes from magics. How else can a woman captain a pirate fleet, small as it is?

(They say she has ten ships, twenty ships, a _hundred_ stretching as far as the eye can see. It's a lie; she has three. Each captured in a desperate bid for freedom.)

Her crew are all in thrall to her, they whisper. Souls she’s harvested from the underworld, kept alive by demonic magic and sent forth to do her bidding. None are more infamous than her first mate, the grey ghost with an insatiable appetite for blood and death. He’s the ghost of her lover, they say. He’s the spirit of her husband, long dead, the man whose death turned her to piracy.

(He laughs as she recounts that rumour. Both of them prefer their own gender to any other, and the idea of them being lovers is ridiculous. Even more so than the idea that her John is a ghost.)

No one knows her true name. No one beyond her crew, deathly loyal as they are. It's rare they use her name anyways. "Captain!" they call, and her head turns. It's only in quiet moments, especially with her sisters, that she hears her birth name.

"Angelica," Eliza wraps an arm around her waist as the two watch the horizon. "Are you sure a journey back to England is wise?"

"There's no war," Angelica observes. Her voice has gone rough over the years, so far away from the breathy, airy thing it was when she'd debuted to society. 

"No," Eliza agrees, but still she frowns. "Alexander would rather we returned to the Caribbean." 

She snorts. "Alexander can continue his search soon. We have a cargo hold bursting with stolen molasses, and I have a desire to trade it to a certain Frenchmen. Besides, it's been too long since we've set foot on European shores."

"John will not thank you," Eliza notes.

"John never does." If she’d let the crew vote, they'd be back amid the warm islands of the Caribbean already. It doesn't matter. There are more important things.

Up ahead, the _Revolution_ suddenly turned hard to port. She'd sent the little sloop scouting, just within sight of her flagship, the _Revelation_. 

"Alexander," Eliza breathes. "He's spotted something."

Both women race to the side of the ship. The crew is already chattering - they can almost smell the blood in the air.

"Report," Angelica snaps, as the _Revolution_ reaches hailing distance. Alexander is certainly hard on his little ship, but Angelica's seen him successfully force the boat through many a maneuver that should be beyond her capability. 

"Large vessel, probably a carrack," Alexander calls. His knowledge of ships never ceases to impress her; it's why she prefers the young man to scout. "Carrying a heavy cargo, and probably a fair number of passengers. She's a nice ship."

"How close are we to France?" 

Silence.

It’s John who answers, her first mate. She hadn’t even noticed him rustling up beside her. He rocks back on his heels, anticipation laced all through his clipped words. "A week to France. Six days to Britain, if we dump the ship there and then move on to trade the more valuable items elsewhere." He’s already got his sword out, passing it from hand to hand.

“The crew has no injuries,” Eliza observes. “And could probably do with a diversion.”  
She’s not wrong in that. They haven’t taken a ship in weeks, and with only sailing to do her men are bored. John has been pacing for days, snarling at the crew and rapping his short nails against the sides of the ship. A battle would do them all well, and more money in their hands is never a bad thing.

"Alright," she decides. "Tell the _Revenge_ , we move to intercept. Try not to damage the ship itself, we'll tow it in to France. We take the ship, the cargo, the passengers’ belongings. Kill no one if we can help it. You know the laws." They were posted on every cabin door, after all.

_The captain holds all power of execution_  
_No persons may be tortured, abused, raped, or sold_  
_All treasure is turned over to the captain for division._

Those are the rules. The crew may put a toe across them occasionally, but by and large they were obeyed. They knew better than to cross her. 

Together the three ships cut through the water, each unfurling a banner of black silk against their sails. _The Night Fleet._ A sign to strike fear into the hearts of men. The _Revelation_ stood tall and proud, her sleek flagship. The _Revolution_ , small and light, to chase down anything that tried to flee. And the _Revenge_ , hulking and powerful, to do the bulk of her fighting. 

The enemy ship comes into view. Alexander is right, she's a fine vessel. One that will fetch a good price when she sells it in Britain (Unless it is a British ship, in which case she will sell it in France). Fine ships have expensive cargo, and even finer passengers. Angelica is no slaver, but she's not above holding someone for ransom every so often. 

She takes her place at the bow, John beside her. He has all the presence of a ghost. "We are taking a ship," she reminds him quietly, "not killing passengers."

He raises a single eyebrow. "And if they so deserve it?"

"I will be the judge of that." Angelica will have none of his disobedience today. "I have no use for sailors who cannot obey orders. Are we clear?"

Silence.

"Are we _clear?_ " she asks her ghost.

And his lips curve up into a rueful little smile, even as he bows his head to her. "Yes, Captain." He ducks away from her and moves to the side of the ship as they prepare to board. 

It's simple, really. A matter of math.

She has three ships. They have one.

She has a crew of fights, brandishing muskets and swords and crying out for blood. The men employed to guard the ship they're taking, the _Malabar_ , are being paid to keep order and fend off the occasional opportunist. Not face the Night Fleet. They're shouting surrenders even as her crew boards. 

Alex and John are first over the side, as always. Then there’s fighting. Screaming. The dying of the few soldiers who try to make a stand of it. Her crew herds up the remainder for Angelica to address.

"Surrender," she declares, in what Peggy has named her _Night's Queen Voice_ , "and you will not be harmed. You will be escorted to land and left there unharmed. Fight, and you will die. Surrender."

One stares up at her with wide eyes. She raises an eyebrow.

"I thought they were a myth," the man murmurs to his companion, dumbfounded. "I didn't think they were real. The Night's Queen and her ships of the damned, souls kept alive by her magics-"

"Hush!" the man beside him says. "They's common pirates, no more."

"Common pirates, crewed by a woman?" he spits back. "Common pirates, who held Queen Charlotte captive for three days and lived to tell the tale?"

She's rather proud of that one, actually.

"Ria, keep them steady," she says instead.

Ria gives her a nod, hefting a fine musket. She's a terrific shot with it, even better than Alexander. "Stay where I can see you, boys."

"Ship's just about ready to be towed," Peggy says, coming up on her side. "Alexander's just running through the last of the resistance, then he can check the rigging and we're out of here. It'll slow the _Revelation_ , are you sure?"

"It'd slow the _Revenge_ more, and the _Revolution_ isn't large enough to pull her."

Peggy nods. "As you say, Captain. Where's your ghost?"

John. Where's John? Angelica looks around, suddenly alert. She'd seen him when they'd boarded, running men through with that fine sword of his. But since- she scans the deck uneasily. Usually he's right there are her side, content to menace the prisoners and ensure they don't make trouble. If he's not there...

That's when she hears the screaming. High, thin, and coming from below decks. 

Angelica curses, tossing her hat at Peggy and taking off at a dead run. He’d gone with Alexander. 

The screams persist, and she races through the ship until she's amongst what must be the passenger cabins. They're small but fine, a warren of rooms and hallways that stink of damp and darkness. Finally, she finds him.

A man dressed in uniform is dead on the floor, and Angelica has to step over his body to get a survey of the situation. John has a man pressed against the wall, the point of his sword just digging into the man's collarbone. Both are breathing hard, and there's a gun on the floor. On the other side of the room is a woman in a red dress, screaming and pleading with him. He doesn't seem to hear. He’s already decided, and settled in for the kill.

She says, "Gentlemen." 

The woman falls silent immediately, turning her dark and fearful eyes in Angelica’s direction. John doesn't turn, but she sees him jerk. It's rather like a cat turning an ear in her direction: he's hoping she'll leave him to it. The strange man only breathes, eyes fixed on the sword point beading blood against his dark skin.

"Do you care to explain what's going on?" She doesn't call him John, not in front of these people. 

"Ma'am, _please_ , please let him-" the woman's begging is cut off by John's ragged words.

"He was hurting the woman."

Just one sentence. Angelica's eyes narrow, and she turns to the man.

He looks from the sword point, to John's face, to Angelica. When he speaks, his voice is smooth and calm. "I would never hurt Maria." 

"Please, ma'am," the woman, Maria, has both hands out in front of her as she pleads, "he was trying to protect me, he would never, has never-"

" _Captain_." John's sword presses ever so slightly more into the man's skin, the beading blood turns into a trickle.

"They both swear there was no harm meant," she observes coolly.

"Men lie."

"They do. That is not for you to decide. Take them to the _Revelation_."

Maria's head snaps up, eyes going wide. _Revelation_ , she mouths. Angelica smirks. Apparently neither a savage first mate or a female captain were enough to clue her in before.

John doesn’t lower his sword. He does take a step forward, the index finger of his right hand coming up to wipe the blood off the man’s collarbone. It smears against his skin, and Angelica can see the faintest tremor in his hand.

Enough. If she lets this go on any longer, John will kill the man. “Stand down,” she orders coldly. When he still doesn’t move, she takes a single step forward. His head jerks towards her, the sword skidding off the man’s chest as she repeats it. “Stand. Down.”

John responds by stabbing his sword into the floorboards and clocking the man.

Alexander chooses that exact moment to show up and be useful. "Captain? The ship's been cleared. All soldiers have surrendered." His eyes flicker from Maria, to John, the dead soldier, and the man now slumped unconscious on the floor. Wisely, he keeps his mouth shut.

"Alexander. Kindly escort Miss Maria to my cabin, she'll be staying as our guest."

John jerks away at her words, leaving the unconscious man on the floor. "I'll do it." 

Maria looks fairly terrified at the idea. No doubt she found young Alexander far less frightening than John’s scowls and scars and missing eye, but Angelica nods her agreement. She'll give John that much, at least, and the woman will have no better protection. 

"Alexander, take this man-" she indicates the unconscious form, "-and place him in the brig on the _Revelation_. Under guard, if you will." She's not taking any chances. "Pull Walker and North off the _Revenge_ , have them do it."

"Walker and North are helping secure the ship-"

She made a noise of frustration. "Then have Madison do it."

John spits. "He is a liar. He deserves to be executed."

" _You will not be the one executing anyone._ " Her voice has gone cold. "Take them both to the _Revelation_. Now." And, without waiting to see if her orders are followed, she leaves both boys to it. John has already capitulated, as long as Maria is safe Alexander will be able to keep him in line.

It often occurs to her, in times like this, that she would have been far better off hiring a nice crew in the West Indies and doing things the easy way. Instead, she's collected a motley crew of outcasts and rabble-rousers, all highly skilled and fiercely independent. They're all hungry: for gold, for freedom, for advancement or approval. For all the things her Night Fleet provides. 

Which doesn't make ruling them any less work.

She sees the rest of the prisoners back inside their cabins, makes a cursory inspection of her crew tossing dead bodies overboard and methodically stripping the ship of any value. Alexander reports that the boat is secure. She gets reports from each crew member; everything is being secured and according the plan. They will be able to leave before dusk. Injuries are minimal. It was a raid well done.

She retreats to her cabin, intent on splashing the blood and sweat from her face, only to see John standing guard outside her door. _Right._ The woman, Maria, would be inside. A wash will have to wait.

"Your hat, Captain," John says stiffly, handing it over.

"Thank you." She steps close, just for a moment, close enough that no one will overhear. "Why are you so intent upon naming this man a liar?"

“I am wary of women travelling in the company of strange men,” John’s voice betrays nothing, but he reaches a hand up to his brow, as it often does when he's uncomfortable. One finger brushes over the ruins of what had once been his left eye. 

“Something you have experience with,” Angelica guesses.

"A cousin," John says slowly, "who impregnated his wife’s young daughter, then sent her away on a ship to hide the evidence, and paid the captain to ensure they never reached their destination.” He fidgets. “When I walked in, and he had her pinned to the wall... I thought he was about to use our attack as a very convenient excuse." She sees his fingers tighten, pressing into his temple like the memory caused him pain. Maybe it did. 

She lets it drop. Now is not the time to bring up specters of the past. "Thank you for ensuring her safety. Stand guard and long as you think is necessary."

John shrugs, shifts, already uncomfortable with it. “Thank you, Captain.” She leaves him be, and pulls open the door to her cabin and preparing herself for what’s inside.

Maria is on the floor, curled away from the bed, and she jerks with fright when Angelica enters. She’s not weeping, or pleading, and Angelica doesn’t know if that’s good or bad. 

So Angelica sits on the bed, trying to hit the right mix of welcoming but authoritative. “Do you know who I am?” she asks. A good first question.

Maria holds herself stiffly, pressed against the small space occupied by a table and chairs. “The Night’s Queen, they call you. I don’t know your name.”

Angelica inclines her head. “They do call me that. Will you sit?”

Maria ignores that. “They say you’re a terror to ships of all kinds, that you give no quarter to slavers. That you sail on ships as black as night, with a crew held in thrall by your magics.”

“Only our sails are black.” But she’s never tried to halt the rumours that swirl around her crew. Let them be afraid. “Tell me where you were sailing.”

“To London,” Maria says softly. “A new life. I had just divorced my husband. I wanted… I wanted not to be afraid anymore.”

“And the man found with you?” Angelica asks. “You have nothing to be afraid of. No one will hurt you while you are with me. No one will hurt you anways, I don’t allow the abuse of women on my ships. Or prisoners.”

At the word _prisoners_ , Maria trembled. “Please, ma’am, Majesty, my companion is a good man. He is the one who secured my divorce, without asking for payment - any kind of payment. He wanted a new life as well. We are travelling partners, he was protecting me, _please_ -”

She falls silent as Angelica holds up a hand. “If that is what you want, he won’t be hurt. He can disembark with you when we reach England.” She hates begging. There was something about it that leaves a sour taste in her mouth, seeing Maria there on her knees. Probably the knowledge that only courage and luck separated her from a similar fate. “What is the man’s name?”

“Burr. Aaron Burr.”

“Burr.” She rolls it around on her tongue. She remembers him, distantly. Someone her father spoke of. “A wealthy man.”

“Less so than in his youth. He did not marry.”

Interesting. “Then he should be worth a ransom, no?” Maria looks stricken. Angelica tries to suppress a sigh. “Have no fear. I’ll deliver him unharmed.” She thought it would comfort the woman, not worry her more. Oh well. “Both of you will disembark in England, no worse for wear. You have my word.”

“ _Thank you_ -”

“Stay here as my guest,” Angelica interrupts her. “I want the crew to see you are under my protection.”

“And Aaron?” Maria asks. Angelica reaches for her again, but when Maria shrinks back Angelica lets her.

_Poor thing. Kidnapped by pirates, her friend’s life threatened, terrified of what’s going to happen._ No wonder she doesn’t want to be touched. “We will deal with Aaron in the morning. I promise he won’t come to any harm.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Commodore. I- I don’t know what to call you.”

_Captain_ , is what Angelica always says. Or, if she’s feeling impish, _Your Highness_. Milking her alias for all it was worth. She opens her mouth, planning to make a joke, but what comes out is,

“Call me Angelica.”

She flushes. Maria’s eyes track the movement, the way Angelica’s eyes flick down. “Angelica,” she says, like she’s tasting the name. “Thank you.”


	2. The Night's Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron Burr wakes up in the hold of the _Revelation_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello hello! Few things:
> 
> Check out this [incredible picture of Captain Angelica](http://www.ineedsomuchassistance.tumblr.com/post/157920119626/for-thellamaduo-i-doodle-sometimes) that Karli drew!!! I am amazed.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my incredible beta Oaxara, who is ridiculously busy and still makes time for this. 
> 
> Rundown of ships!  
> The Revelation is a brigantine, and looks something [like this](https://www.q-files.com/images/pages/galleries/1119/p18ed8abi317l81h4h17mu1guf1m0ms.jpg)  
> The Revolution is a sloop, a small ship, and looks [like this](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/38/c6/dd/38c6dd6d07e85dc8c29c5657b42e1fba.jpg)  
> And the Revenge is a British Man-o-War, and holds a good portion of the sailors. [like this](https://s3.amazonaws.com/gs-geo-images/d2d2f2f1-6013-4de5-9c27-dbb5c8837693.jpg). Though it should be noted that Angelica keeps a relatively small crew, and only a handful appear in the story proper.

**May 18th, 1782**

When Aaron Burr regains consciousness, it’s with his aching face pressed against the wet wood of a ship. A dark room, with only a single lamp and no windows to let in the sunlight. Well, all the better, sunlight would probably make the pounding in his head worse. 

Aaron lays there, trying to remember the last twenty four hours. He and Maria on the _Malabar_ , each sailing away to a new life in England. And then...

Black sails on the horizon. The pirates overtaking them, and their ship being boarded. Maria had fled to hide below deck, and Aaron had chased after her. He'd just gotten her to calm when they'd heard the slick crunch of a sword and the man guarding them fell to the floor. And then _he_ advanced.

It was like something out of a nightmare. Tarnished, tattered clothes that exposed his scarred arms. Wild hair pulled tightly back for battle. A scar ran down his face, dividing a third of it and running right through where his left eye should have been. The other eye was the coldest Aaron had ever seen. The creature had stepped over the murdered guard, sword high, and Aaron had acted on instinct.

He'd pushed Maria up against the wall, blocking her body with his. The pirates would have to go through him before they hurt Maria. 

Which had, evidently, been the wrong decision. So had reaching for the gun he kept in his bedside drawer. 

It had gotten him pressed up against the wall with a sword at his throat, Maria screaming for mercy. Even so, Aaron suspected he would have been dead if it were not for the Pirate Queen. She had been...

Well. She had been rather magnificent, all in all. 

And now he’s here. Aaron lifts his head, groaning at the cacophony of pain that resounded through his skull. The nightmare pirate had an excellent left hook, that was for sure. 

A voice to his right murmurs, "He's awake. Someone fetch the captain."

"Captain?" It's slurred. _God dammit. Get your head on, or you're likely to lose it._ He waits a full minute, until his head quiets, and says, "I would like to speak to the captain," with as much dignity as he can muster.

"The captain will be here as soon as she can, I don't doubt," the voice answers. "But for now, you need to stay here." Slowly, carefully, Aaron turns his head.

The voice belongs to a small man, leaning against a cane, on the outside of what appears to be a small cell. He's even shorter than Aaron, who is used to being the shortest man in the room. When Aaron meets his gaze he doesn't smile, but holds out a cup. "Here. Captain's ordered you to be well taken care of."

"My thanks to your captain," Aaron says, before downing what turns out to be an excellent rum. It scorches away the last of his daze. "Where am I?"

"The _Revelation_." The man takes pity on his look of confusion. "The captain's flagship."

"And where is Maria?"

"The girl? She is in the captain's cabin. The captain wants to ensure everyone knows that the girl belongs to her."

"Maria does not _belong_ -"

"That's enough." The words are quiet, but they bring the argument to an immediate halt. Both men turn. The captain, the fabled Night's Queen, stands in the doorway, hand upon her hip. 

She's shorter than he'd always imagined her.

"Captain." Aaron bows as well as he can from where he's sitting on the floor. "I thank you for your hospitality."

She scoffs softly. "You thank me for your jail?"

"For the rum, my life, and keeping Maria safe." He toasts to her with the empty cup.

She ignores it. "You are on trial here, traveler. I have an account from my first mate that says you intend to hurt the woman you are travelling with, and furthermore that you are a criminal and a rogue. That may be grounds for holding you ransom, but he wants very badly for me to take your head. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

The terrifying pirate is her first mate. He would be the ghost the stories tell of, the grey ghost that slaughters crews at the behest of his mistress. The man Aaron had met was awfully tan to be called _grey_ , but there is no doubting his menace. "I have many things to say in my defense; I wanted to be a lawyer, once upon a time."

"A lawyer?" One eyebrow rises. "Once, but no more?"

He nods. "Yes. Once, but no more."

"Why?"

 _Politics called me,_ he might have said. _I wanted to do something, be something._ Instead he says, "Love. My lover was already married, and when her husband returned from the war unharmed… I could not face it. In time, I couldn't even face the house, the city, the country. I thought England might be a new start."

“And Maria?” Her voice is sharp. “Your mistress?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Never. Maria is a friend, nothing more.” He didn’t add the rest: that he hasn’t so much as looked at a woman since Theodosia, that he’s certain he never will. That Maria had offered once, tentatively, to pay him _in that way_ for helping secure her divorce and he just about fell on his face in an effort to throw a blanket over her and reassure the woman it wasn’t even remotely necessary. 

“Prove it.”

Aaron sighs, resisting the urge to hit his head against the bars. “I don’t know how you expect me to prove that we have no amorous connection. I can’t prove something that doesn’t exist. Ask her, if you will. She’ll give you a straight answer.”

“I have,” the captain says simply. “I believe her. But my ghost has a thirst for your blood, and he’s not always good at listening. It may be safer for you to stay here, under guard, until we reach France.”

Stay here? In this tiny cell, being passed rum through the bars? “Thank you, ma’am, but I would sooner be above deck. I understand the risks and I thank you for your protection.”

She snorts. “It’s ‘ _Captain_ ’, I don’t like ‘ma’am’. Madison, the keys.” She unlocks his cell herself, standing back to let him out. “You have your run of the three ships, and the one we’ve captured. See that you don’t get your throat cut.”

She leaves without another word.

“Captain’s orders,” Madison shrugs. “Stay away from- well, from her ghost.”

Burr’s eyes narrow. He’s fairly sure that Madison was about to tell him the ghastly first mate’s name. He doesn’t know the captain’s name either, the powerful woman that had just saved his life.

A question for another time. Burr stumbles up onto the deck, shielding his eyes against the sudden glare. All around, people are moving. On both sides of the _Revelation_ , ships cut through the water - a hulking battleship to his right, and a small sloop to his left.Tied to the _Revelation_ was the ship he and Maria had been sailing on, the _Malabar_. 

_Some good it did._ He can see people on her deck, passengers and what remains of the guards. It looks like most had surrendered rather than try to fight. 

“If you’re looking for John, he’s on the _Revolution_.” 

Aaron whirls. “Who?”

“John.” Suddenly, the man flushes a dark red. “Oh! The captain's ghost, her first mate. Has one eye, you know-”

“Yes, I know.” So that was the terrifying man’s name. “John. And you are?”

“Alexander.” He smiles. It’s a nice smile, Aaron can’t help but notice, a bright flash below laughing eyes.

“Aaron Burr.”

“Sir!” Alexander choruses, unbothered by the look of disdain it earns him. “John’s with Eliza on the _Revolution_ , for your protection and for the lady’s peace of mind. The captain-”

“Maria,” Aaron interrupts him. “Where is Maria?”

“She’s with the captain,” is Alexander’s non-reassuring answer. “Relax, the captain will take good care of her.” 

Aaron doesn't like the sound of that at all. "Where may I find the captain?" he asks, trying to match Alexander's easy tone.

It doesn't work. Alexander just huffs, turning back towards the water. "You don't. She's with Maria right now, you can see them after if the captain's not busy. She's a thing of beauty, isn't she?"

"She is," Aaron said with feeling, before realizing that Alexander was staring at the little sloop and not talking about his captain. Alexander’s boat is nice, he supposes, as one judges these things. It had been even nicer once - the figurehead is shorn in two, the railings worn and weathered from what’s likely years of service in a pirate fleet. But she looks seaworthy, and he supposes that's what matters.

"She's mine," Alexander says. "Mine and my wife's. Our ship."

"Your wife?" Aaron had been pegging him as a teenager, with the easy nature and lanky build.

Alexander didn't seem bothered. "The captain's sister. We married last year."

Still young then. He wonders how Alexander had ended up on a pirate ship.

"Aaron!" 

Aaron turns just in time for Maria to crash into his arm. 

"I thought you were dead! I thought you were dead I thought you were-"

"Not yet, it seems." He pulls her into a hug for a moment, then releases her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." She's barefoot, half her skirts cut away to make moving on the deck easier. Alexander doesn't seem to be wearing a lot of clothes either, just shirtsleeves and a pair of buckskin trousers.

"I've been with the captain," Maria says, and there’s something in her voice. Awe, with just a hint of fear.

"With the captain," Aaron echoes. "Maria, what are we going to do?" Escape, somehow. Before John the murderous first mate decided to make good on his threats.

But Maria shook her head. "No no, you don't understand. Captain Angelica will keep us safe. Her crew are- they aren't the pirates of myth, Aaron. They're different."

He thinks back to Madison's kindness, Alexander's smile- "Maybe. But there are people who want me _dead_ , Maria, and probably you with them."

Beside him, Alexander snorts. "As if John would ever hurt the lady." 

"I don't trust men who hold me by swordpoint," Aaron retorts, scathing. But he doesn’t want to have this conversation in front of Alexander, who will surely report it to the captain. "Maria, let's go-"

Before he can finish, Alex stills. "Captain."

Aaron turns. The captain is there, a wide-brimmed hat shielding her from the sun. She nods at her crewmember, then turns to Maria. "You see? I did promise you he would not be harmed."

In the presence of the Night's Queen, Maria pales. She's standing partially shielded by Aaron, something he'd be concerned about if it wasn't for her strong grip on his shoulder. "Yes," she manages, nodding.

"Captain," Alexander entreats. "John would like permission to return to the _Revelation_. He swears you'll have no complaints with his conduct."

She sighs. "I will have many complaints with his conduct, just not enough to merit punishment."

Alexander cracks a knowing smile. "He says he wants to be there to guard his most esteemed captain."

"Ridiculous courtesies." She waves a hand. "If John can keep his sword to himself, he is welcome back aboard my flagship. Do remind him of my rules." She nods at Aaron and Maria. "Any man or woman who threatens my prisoners can leave once we reach France. I will not suffer disobedience on this."

Alexander swallows. "Yes, captain."

"Good. Join me for dinner tonight?" she asks Aaron and Maria. "And you as well, Alexander, if Eliza doesn't have plans for you."

"Eliza can find someone to handle the _Revolution_ for a few hours. I'll send word." He gave the captain one last nod of acknowledgement before scampering off.

The captain turned back to Aaron, eyes like mirrors. Dispassionate and evaluating. Waiting, it seemed, but for what?

It is Maria who speaks, finally. "Thank you," she says. "You are a woman of your word."

The captain inclines her head, brim of her hat hiding any expression. “I am delighted we could prove such. I will see you tonight.”

His feelings of unease did not decrease over dinner. He and Maria sit close together, elbows brushing in the cramped room; the _Revelation_ is not large, for a flagship, and the captain’s rooms are likewise tiny. To his immediate right sits Alexander, smiling without a care in the world. Aaron can understand, logically, the benefits of having a man like Alexander around - in the short hours Aaron had spent with him today, Alexander has proved himself a capable sailor as well as an exuberant chatterbox. What Aaron doesn't understand is how the crew manages not to throw him overboard in an effort to shut him up.

He'd voiced such thoughts to Maria, grumbling, in the few moments they had before sitting down.

"Angelica says he's their surgeon as well," she'd said simply. 

A good surgeon is worth his weight in gold on a ship, Aaron knows that much. But if he were the captain, he'd consider a gag.

Beside Alexander is a petite woman introduced to him as Eliza, Alexander's wife and Angelica's sister. The moment they'd entered she'd taken a hand from both Maria and Aaron and said, "I know how frightening pirates can be. Please, be welcome at our table."

It's ridiculous how much better a simple courtesy makes him feel.

The final member of their table is the pirate queen herself, though she somehow seems less enigmatic than before. Seeing her smile at Alexander's jests, or lean over to rest her head on her sister's shoulder, almost fades away the memory of her rough commands. Almost.

 _She's just a woman_ , Aaron reminds himself. _Younger than you, probably. Though no one rises to command a pirate fleet at such as age without considerable character._

"Who's commanding the _Revolution_?" the captain asks her sister.

Alexander answers for her, breaking into the conversation. "Walker and North."

"You would sacrifice their romantic evening for your own?"

"Always," Alexander laughs, taking his wife’s hand. "But we'll relieve them after dinner. Walker and North," he adds for their guests' benefit, "are a couple as well, though unmarried."

"You have so many women on your ship," Maria observes.

It earns her snorts from around the table. "Of women, we have plenty," the captain says, "but Walker and North are men."

"Two men, in a relationship?" The words are out before Aaron can think to guard them. Worse, they're sharp, almost accusing. Four pairs of eyes lock on him.

"They are." The captain's voice is cold. Alexander is stiff as a board, no longer laughing. "And many on this ship are so inclined, including my first mate, myself, and the man sitting beside you."

Well, _that_ was interesting. He’d always heard stories that pirates dabbled in the forbidden, the sinful… that they took what they wanted without a care towards civility. 

Dangerous thoughts. "Apologies, captain," he forces the words out. "It took me by surprise, that's all."

A moment of tense silence. Alexander nods, going back to his food; Eliza follows suit. The captain stares at him a moment longer, and Aaron can feel _something_ in her gaze. Something knowing. He shifts, uncomfortable, and the motion knocks Maria's arm hard enough that she drops her sauerkraut. 

"Last week," Alexander says, loud enough the whole table could hear it, "I managed to play a hand of cards with North and Madison."

"Oh?" Eliza frowns skeptically. "Playing without markers, I assume?"

"Yes, Betsey," Alexander says. But when Eliza is turned around to speak to her sister, he leans over to Aaron and whispers, "We did have a marker. We were playing for Ria's favourite corset."

Aaron sputters, trying desperately to prevent his drink from going everywhere. Somehow, clearly, Alexander has decided to make a friend out of him. He just wishes he knew whether to be grateful or dismayed.

He's just starting on a second helping of hard tack and (no rationing, they've just looted a ship) when a blast of cold air hits his back. Someone’s opened the door.

"Captain," Alexander says in a low voice. She just shakes her head.

Aaron turns.

John stands in the doorway, a hand on his sword and his one good eye glaring at Aaron.

"John!" Eliza's brightness is brittle. "Have you come to join us for supper?"

"I've come to see the captain." Every time John speaks, Aaron is expecting a voice to match his appearance. A low, grim rasp of a voice meant to terrify small children. But whatever God saw fit to leave him maimed and scarred also chose to give him the voice of an angel. It's high in tenor, clear as a bell, and Aaron's certain that if he chose to try he'd have a lovely singing voice. 

He does not choose to try. He chooses to stalk over to the far corner, settling into a chair half obscured by shadow. He's sitting right behind the captain. 

"Loyal as ever." Alexander shakes his head. 

"Will you come and join us, even if you're not eating?" the captain asks calmly.

And Aaron surprises himself by adding his voice to hers. "There's room still, over here." A challenge. _You don't scare me._

“I’ll wait outside.” John jerks to his feet, stalking back out and slamming the door shut behind him.

“If that breaks, you’re fixing it!” the captain calls after him, and just like that the tension is broken.

“Why is he so…” Aaron shakes his head, directing his comment at the one friendly face at the table.

Alexander shrugs. “Been like that as long as I’ve been here. John’s got his reasons.”

“His reasons to try and commit _murder_?”

Another shrug. “It’s a pirate ship. Pirates murder, it’s part of battle. The captain likes to take captives if she can help it, but ships are small. Discipline is important.”

“Discipline could stand to be a little bit _more_ important…” Aaron grumbles, thinking back to John’s sword at his neck. For a moment there he’d genuinely thought the man was going to disobey and kill him.

They finish supper, making conversation that’s only slightly strained. The captain pulls out a bottle of rum as they’re taking the last few bites, and as she fills Alexander’s glass he feels Maria stiffen beside him. 

“Captain,” he asks, careful to keep his voice respectful and his eyes lowered. “I think Maria and I are ready to retire. May I inquire as to where we will be sleeping?”

“Maria will be staying in my cabin,” the captain says, “and you will stay with the crew.”

Well, that was something. At least Maria wouldn’t have to suffer sleeping amid a bunch of strange and violent men. But she was still getting tenser and tenser as she watched the pirates consume the rum. He recalls what she said to him, when they’d first met in his law office. _My husband’s doing me wrong. He drinks and cheats and hurts me. He hurts me when he drinks._

“Then I think we will retire,” he says, offering a hand to Maria. “May I walk you?” 

“Yes, please.” She grabs his hand gratefully, lets him lead her out of the warren’s nest and into the cool night air. He takes her to the captain’s cabin and bids her goodnight.

Halfway back (and really, it’s only a few steps outside) he’s slammed to the wall with a forearm at his throat. “Leave the captain alone.”

Aaron struggles, tries to speak, but the arm at his windpipe is cutting off his air. John smells of rum, and the look in his eye is even more unhinged than usual. “I-”

“I know what you are,” John spits. “If you make a single move against the captain, against that woman you’re with, or any woman on this ship, I will kill you.”

Aaron opens his mouth, but only a squeak comes out. He looks into John’s eyes, the hazel eye that hates him and the empty socket that seems to mock him. They stare at one another for a long moment, time stretching between them, and then John steps back.

Aaron takes several short, sharp breaths. _You can breathe._ If only he could make his lungs believe it. _You can breathe._

If he were a braver man, this would be where he’d say something cutting. Something sharp, and witty, that would make John reevaluate his judgement. Something to convince these pirates that he would never harm Maria, that he has no intentions towards any member of the crew beyond getting as far away from them as possible.

But he’s not a brave man, so after several moments of breathing he flees down the stairs, into the depths of the ship and the protection of the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come chat with me on [tumblr](http://www.thellamaduo.tumblr.com) or like, you know, scream incoherently in the comments.
> 
> Hoping to have the next chapter up sooner


	3. The Angelica Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelica learns what it means to be a captain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this chapter took forever I'm so sorry. Below is draft FIVE, as I was having major issues with the flashback. Next chapter will be out much faster and will continue the main story.
> 
> Check out some new art [of Angelica](https://i.groupme.com/1688x2250.jpeg.30a51ef6d6b5461a9f1f87c6f8f13e0c.large) done by the wonderful [Clarinda](http://clarind-uh.tumblr.com/)

**1776**

"Captain!" 

Angelica will never get used to hearing them call her that. _Never_. She tries not to grin and she takes her place on the prow. "What is it?"

"Ship on the horizon." The man nods. There, in the distance, is a small shape.

"What is it? Do you know?" Two months at sea, and she still knows precious little about ships. She's ordered one of the men to teach her, but the work is slow. There is so much that needs attention.

"It's bound for the Caribbean, Captain, so it'll have supplies. The things they can't get there. Slaves, maybe, to work in the fields. Not the same riches as would a ship _leaving_ the Caribbean, that's for certain."

"Still." She feels almost breathless as she looks at the ship. _I could take it. I could. Pirates do that._ And she's a pirate now, a pirate captain with no laws but the ones she makes. True, her ship had been bought rather than stolen. So had her crew, signed on with four month contracts. She isn't sure how many of them will stay- she's surprised so many agreed as it is, serving under the command of a young heiress with few practical skills. 

A little plunder would entice them though, that she’s sure of. "Change course to intercept," she orders, testing how the words feel.

"Yes, ma'am." The sailor snorts. "Better go tell the little one."

She glares at him. "That is no way to refer to my sister."

"Why not? She's a tiny thing. Tinier than you. And she acts like it." He shrugs, and saunters away. Presumably to follow her orders and prepare the crew.

At least, she hopes so. 

As soon as he's gone Angelica feels herself deflate. _If father could see me now._ She's still using her charm, and her poise, but she's using it to captain a motley crew of sailors instead of holding dinner parties. Though in terms of exhaustion, she would choose the pirates over the parties anytime. Slowly, she climbed below deck and went to find her sister.

Eliza is where she usually is, wrapped in a quilt and sitting by the window of Angelica's suit. "Eliza."

"Angelica." Eliza smiles faintly as Angelica kisses her on the cheek.

"We're going to raid a ship," Angelica tells her, trying to inject some excitement into her poor sister.

Angelica had taken immediately to the sea and the ship, Eliza did not. Angelica still finds her on the deck every morning, throwing meals up over the side. She's wane and pale, and Angelica worries for her health. 

Unfortunately, there's nothing she can do about it. It's not like they can go _back_.

"A ship?" Eliza looks worried. "Angelica, be _careful_ -"

"I won't be doing any fighting, don't worry," Angelica promises her. "Can you imagine me with a sword? No, the crew will do the raiding, and I will be there to accept their surrenders."

Eliza's voice is faint, but at least she's still smiling. "Don't forget your hat."

"Never." Angelica loves that hat. It has a feather.

As soon as she climbs back onto the deck, she sees the crew milling about uncertainly. 

“What are they waiting for?” she demands of the closest sailor.

“For you to name someone to lead the raid. To reconsider, maybe, and look for better plunder.” He’s honest, at least. Even if he’s wrong.

“We will not reconsider.” She had to make them see that. If she backed down now, they’d never listen to her again. “This is a pirate ship now. We are pirating. Troup will command.” Robert Troup is her first mate, and the natural choice.

The sailor is still staring at her uncertainly. She clicks her heel against the deck. “Attack as ordered."

"As you wish." He pulls a dirk from his belt and tosses it to her, hilt first. There’s just a hint of scorn in his voice as he says, "The captain should wear a sword."

He does have a point. She tucks in into the belt of her breeches and steels herself for what is to come. _It won't be that bad_.

But it is. 

They drive the _Revelation_ close enough that they can bump sides with the trading ship. Cannons blast, but neither ship has enough to do serious damage. Then her men let the grappling hooks fly, going aboard with roars of rage. 

Angelica, on the prow of her own ship, can only watch in barely-concealed horror. A man lunges with a bayonet, and gets cut down with a savage slash to the shoulder. Angelica shrieks as blood spurts forth, too far away for her to do anything to help. _I must help. I must be closer._ She creeps forward, towards where her men are fighting. 

It's ending now though, the battle short. Many men are kneeling, their hands behind their heads. Worse are the bodies that litter the deck, some still moaning and moving. One man moves among them, checking on injuries and doing what he can. 

Troup is speaking. She drifts forward as if in a dream.

"Surrender," he declares, in a booming voice, "and you will not be harmed. Your cargo is forfeit, but you will be allowed to sail away. Surrender."

The prisoners watch, fear in their eyes. One, a burly man with a freely bleeding leg, slips in a puddle of his own blood and falls.

Before she knows what she's doing Angelica rushes forward to support him. "Let me help you." compassion. Courtesy. A proper lady.

He takes one look at her, face twisting in rage, and then his hands are around her throat. 

Chaos. Men yell, scrabble, draw swords, but she is mute to them. Mute to everything except her own body and the hands that clamp around her neck like a vise. _You're not strong enough_. Not to break his hold. Instead she goes for the dirk at her belt, fumbling to draw it. 

The blood is rushing in her ears. Still, she's oddly calm as she braces the dirk and slams it into the man's belly. It doesn't go nearly as deep as she wanted, but the blade scrapes against bone and she gives it a twist for good measure.

The hands around her throat release.

And then she's laying on the deck, gasping for air as her men take him down. Troup steps forward personally to slit his throat.

"Captain?" One man offers her a hand. She takes it gladly, staggering to her feet. The dirk slips from her fingers.

He grabs it, ignoring the blood, and hands it back to her. She sees a new respect in his eyes as he says, "This would be yours.”

_That's right, captain, defend yourself._ She doesn't want to touch the sword. She _doesn't want_ to touch the sword. 

Slowly, to control her trembling, Angelica reaches out a hand for it. Her fingers brush the bloody blade, smearing it slightly, and she fights back a shudder; there can be no fear in her eyes. She takes it, slides it back into her belt, and gives him a nod. 

It takes them all day to finish. Finally, the ship is stripped of valuable goods and left to limp to shore. Some sailors advocate for taking the ship too, and selling its crew into bondage, but Angelica won't hear it. 

"Would you like to be enslaved, for taking work on a ship?" she demands. "They are poor and hungry, taking service where they can. Leave them be. _On_ their ship," she adds, and is gratified to see him nod. "Yes, captain." Still, she doesn't like the look in his eye.

That night, safe in her cabin with Eliza, she confesses. "They don't see me as their captain, not truly. They see me as the pretty rich girl who bought their obedience but not their loyalty.”

“You killed a man today.” Eliza’s hands are soft, running over her hair.

“Don’t remind me.”

“I just mean… that was something you did. Something they’ll respect. A captain has to be able to command, not just yell orders.”

Angelica thinks about that. She thinks long and hard, laying in the darkness of her cabin, about the difference between being a passenger on a ship and being a captain.

The next day, at sunset, she finds a man polishing his pistols and says, "Teach me to shoot."

"Pardon me, captain?"

"Teach me to shoot," she repeats. If men respected strength, then she would be strong. _I will give them life, and I will give them death._

Slowly, she learns. The first day she hits nothing, and is forced to stop when the night shift changes and her teacher goes to sleep in his hammock. Angelica doesn't want to spread the knowledge around, that the captain cannot hit the broad side of a barn with her pistol. 

The next day, she manages to hit the bottle balancing on the side of the ship. Only once in a night full of missed shots, but it feels like a victory.

She gets better. Starts shooting at bottles thrown into the air, to practice against moving targets. And a week in, once she's more confident, Angelica makes Eliza come out and shoot too. 

Her sister is shaky and uncertain, a far worse shot than Angelica, but slowly she learns too.

"We will not be helpless," Angelica tells her sister, "the next time we fight."

Eliza gives her a shaky smile. "Or at least a little less so. As you say, Captain."


	4. Ship's Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Situations boil over on a tense ship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder
> 
> The Revelation is a median sized ship, and Angelica's flagship. Angelica captains her.  
> The Revolution is a small ship, captained by Alexander and Eliza (Though they frequently turn command over someone else to be on the flagship)  
> The Revenge in a very large ship, captained by Peggy 
> 
> Characters decisions, beliefs, and actions do not necessarily reflect the views of the author
> 
> Thank you always to Oaxara, and to everyone who helped with this mammoth chapter

**May 19th 1782**

By her second day on the ship, she's met with smug grins and knowing glances. Which is all fine and good, she supposes, she just wishes she knew _why_.

It's not just the looks that have changed. A man stops her as she's walking above deck, and asks her to pass a message to the captain. Ria, saucy and sharp, asks her if the legends about the captain are true - as if she would know, better than the crew. There's something vaguely smug in it, but she's gone before Maria can ask what on earth she means. 

It doesn't feel sexual, not quite. She has been at the beck and call of harassing men too many times, and she's confident that none of them are angling for _that_. One man makes a comment about the virtues of her sex, but he's quickly swatted and shooed away. Truly, everyone on the ship has treated her with utmost respect.

She just wishes she knew why they were all so _smug_ about it. 

Alexander is not immune to to the smugness, but at least he gives her a tour of his little boat. It's a sloop, apparently, and he's as proud of her as anything.

"Stole her myself," he says, and grins widely. "My first act as a pirate. Well, my second."

"Oh?" Maria asks, curious. "What was the first?"

His smile doesn't waver. "Murder."

"Oh." To speak so cheerfully of it... her eyes narrow. "Are you telling the truth?"

He bursts out laughing. After a moment she does too, though it's not quite an answer.

"Alexander?"

"Hm?"

"Why do the crew look at me like that?"

"Oh, well." Alexander waves an arm aimlessly. The other is in the rigging, anchoring him to the side of the ship. "It's the old guard, don't mind them. Angelica has been known to be a little... stubborn when she takes someone under her protection. She's stubborn in general, mind you, but especially when her people are concerned. Though the crew don't usually challenge her any more over things like that…”

"You're saying they don't like me?" she asked, curious. That wasn't what she'd observed at all.

"No, not that." He waves his arms again, this time nearly falling before his hand snaps out to grab the rigging. "They're just... wary. They're wary, because you are an unknown and the captain has declared she will defend you over their objections if necessary. Ships are small, they don't like change."

"That is all fine." It makes sense, really. "But what I cannot understand, is why do they seem so _smug_ about it? Like you all know something I do not."

"Oh!" His eyes widen, and so does his grin. "That's not about the captain! Well, sort of." He had the audacity to wink at her. "That is just about where you're sleeping."

Her frown crinkles. "...In the captain's cabin?"

"In the captain's _bed_. I can't remember the last time Angelica took on a lover like this, moving them in and-"

"Wait." Her mind races. "The crew think I am involved with Captain Angelica?"

"Well. Yes."

"I'm not."

"You're not?!" This time he _does_ fall off, into the water with a splash. Maria yelps as the cold seawater soaks her dress. Alexander's head pops back up above the waves a moment later, and he hauls himself back onto the deck. "I'm sorry, you're _not_ sleeping with the captain?"

"No." She flushes under his searching eyes. "She's not touched me. Why?"

"Well." Alexander runs a hand through his wet hair. “You’re her type is all.”

Maria tries not to blush, turning away. She reminds herself, not for the first time, that they are prisoners on their way to be ransomed in England, and getting attached would only make that harder.

Instead she changes the subject. “Will you teach me to swim?” She’s seen the way the crew move through the water, cutting through it effortlessly, and she wants that.

“You can’t swim in a skirt.” Alexander frowns at her attire. “We’ll have to get you a pair of the captain’s pants, but I can teach you.”

She spends the rest of the day with him, learning to kick in the waves.

If only Aaron could have such a pleasant time. As they sail through a light rain the next day, she finds him on the _Revelation_. Hiding from the crew as much as the weather. 

"It’s too cold," he complains. A bit of sodden old sail offers some shelter from the rain, but has the added benefit of making him look like a shivering turtle as he crouches beneath it.

Maria has never minded the rain. "Yesterday it was sunny, and you said it was too hot."

"It was." He curses, and spits. "Too hot and too cold and too hard. Why would anyone want to live on a _ship_."

"Choice," Maria offers absently. He gives her a look. "Opportunity. Freedom."

"A hard bed and punishing weather and rations."

She shrugs. The food isn't _that_ bad. 

“I still see him glaring at me,” Aaron says, in a very different sort of voice.

“Who- oh.” John, he means John. John with his flashes of temper and his bloody sword and a terrible scar down his face. When she’d first seen him three days ago Maria had thought him something out of a nightmare, a ghost come to drag her down to hell.

She wasn’t too far off, it seems. John was very quiet, and she hasn’t seen him smile yet. He stalks across the decks of the _Revelation_ , inspecting things and generally making sure the ship was running according the the captain’s orders. Everyone seemed to respect him, though she has noted a definite wariness in some of them. Including Aaron, who despite staying as far away from John as possible, is still inciting glares and twitches in John whenever he is nearby.

Maria doesn’t know what his problem is - or what’s stopping him from acting on it. The captain’s word, it seems. “Angelica has guaranteed your safety.”

“Maria,” Aaron sighs, “does he seem like the type to control his impulses?”

 _Yes. No. I don’t know._ John is frightening to look at, and she doesn’t doubt his aggression towards Aaron. But, unlike Aaron, she’s also seen his quiet devotion to the captain. “He has his own ghosts,” she says, which seems safe. _The Grey Ghost, that’s what they call him. A vengeful shade to wreak hell on the moral world._

Aaron sighs. "How long till England?"

"Another four days, I believe." It almost makes her sad.

He sighs. "I will endure." 

But he is her friend, her dear dear friend, so Maria kneels down to kiss him on the cheek and fetch a blanket. It’s not much, and it will not protect him from John, but it is all she can do. She doesn’t say a word about what the crew believe of her and the captain - it will just muddy the waters. They are leaving, to Aaron’s delight and her growing despair. 

"How do you do it?" she asks on the fourth night. Despite the whispers and the looks, Maria had not moved out of the captain’s cabin. She hadn’t even said a word about it. She curled up in Angelica's bed each night, warm and safe, while Angelica settled herself into the chair by the window.

Which is where she is now, gazing at Maria with steady eyes. "How do I do what?" Hatless, her fingers petting down her hair and checked for imperfections.

"How do you make them listen to you? The crew. What makes them listen to-"

"A woman? A _young_ woman at that?" Angelica smiles, and it’s the smile Maria isn't sure she likes. It has too many teeth. "We are not a democracy. This is my ship. My rules. If they do not like them, any man can get off at the nearest port. I will not suffer mutiny on my ships."

"That," Maria says archly, "does not prevent men from mutinying anyway, taking your ship, and leaving you for dead." _-Or worse_ , her voice implies.

Angelica only smiles sadly. "I had men who believed in me, at the beginning, and supported my captaincy while I established myself. Once the crew saw I was able to lead them as well as any man, they accepted it." She picks up a silver-backed brush from the desk, and settles in behind Maria to brush her hair. "Men follow power. True power, which is of character rather than station."

The brush through her hair is soothing; Maria allows herself to be lulled. "And these men who supported your captaincy?" Great men, surely, to see a leader in a young woman.

The brush stills for just a moment, then resumes. "They lost faith in it. They are no longer with us."

 _Did you have them killed-_ the words are on the tip of her tongue. She swallows them back. Now is not the time.  
_Is what Alexander said true?_ She doesn't say that either. Not because she doesn't want to know the answer, but because she might want to know it too much. 

The next day, the question still follows her. So Maria decides on something small, to test the waters. Something easily defensible. It’s only fair, considering how much she and Aaron are in the captain’s debt. It’s polite. Proper.

When she'd come aboard, the captain had given her a new dress to wear. Her old one was lovely, but wholly unsuitable for a ship. Wool was warm, but soaked quickly and would not have survived a ship like the Revelation. So it hung in Angelica's quarters, slightly tattered as all her dresses were, and still splattered with blood from the taking of the _Malabar_. But the satin trim on the bodice was mostly unscathed, and a very pretty shade of red. It was this that Maria cut off, ripping the seams carefully with a knife.

She didn't have much to give Angelica, no. But a ribbon was nicer for tying hair than a piece of twine or scrap of linen. And a gift was a good way to catch someone's attention, to start a conversation that, perhaps, they needed to be having...

Her prize clutched in hand, Maria heads up to the deck. And, for a moment, she doesn't understand what she's seeing.

Blood. There's blood on the deck, wet and shiny. And shouting, angry voices spitting insults at each other. Her eyes swim into focus.

John is struggling, thrashing, held in place by Ria and Alexander. She sees his hands, one whole and one with only three fingers, clench and stretch as they reach towards the object of his ire. 

Aaron is breathing heavily, a long scratch down his cheek and neck. Eliza stands with him, one hand on his shoulder.

And between them is Angelica, more great and more terrible than Maria has ever seen her. The pirate queen stands as a giant, outlined against the cloudy sky. "-cannot tolerate this. Will not tolerate this." She walks over to John, and for a moment Maria thinks she will strike him. She doesn't, just positions herself to block John's line of sight - his fingers scratch against her coat for a moment. Then the madness in his eyes ebbs, fades into a sullen glare. 

_Now_ she strikes him, the slap echoing across the deck. Everyone stares, silent. John does not flinch.

"You disrespect me," the captain tells him. "You disobey me. You attack a man I have under my protection - _yes_ , under my protection, for we have captured him and he has given his surrender. _That_ is how this ship works, we do not hurt prisoners who have surrendered." 

John says nothing, just stares at her with intent eyes. A bruise is blooming on his wan cheek. 

Angelica seems to have made a decision. "I cannot have you here. Not with them. I don't know that I can have you here at all, if you will willingly disobey me in this. And staying on the _Revolution_ \- it was not a significant punishment the first time, it seems."

Maria can just see John's brow as it knits into a frown. He glances back uncertainly at the _Revolution_ , several knots ahead of them, and then back at Angelica. Her face is grim. Even Maria can't look at her for long. Instead she follows John's horrified gaze to where the _Revenge_ sits, huge and hulking, to their left. 

"No," John says, and it's almost a whisper. " _No_." He wasn't looking at her, his eyes had not left the British man-o-war.

The captain's voice cracks like a whip. "Unless you want to be imprisoned until we reach English soil, you will obey me." 

“Captain…” It was horrible to watch. John, who had been so fearsome and loomed so menacingly in her mind, trembling and begging and undone.

 _What is wrong with the ship?_ It’s crewed by good men, some of whom she had met, yet John looks at it like it was the very mouth of hell.

“Angelica,” Maria murmurs, her voice carried by the wind.

If Angelica hears, she does not reply.

“You heard me. The _Revenge_ , or you will be confined below deck until we reach British soil. If they won’t have you there, I don’t give a damn. I will not have people who murder captives on my ship.”

The crew shifts, murmurs amongst themselves. Maria doesn’t have to be a genius to see they don’t like this. But not one person steps forward. They all stare, transfixed.

John glances back at them. “Captain, you can’t… the _Revolution_ … you know-”

She turns away from him. “Ria, Alexander, put him in the cell below deck.” Now facing her, Maria is the only one who can see the fury, the fear, on Angelica’s face. She meets Maria’s stricken glance. “No chains.” The words carry, and Ria steps forward.

“Captain!” It’s not John who is speaking. Angelica turns.

Aaron Burr steps forward, smoothly putting his body between Ria and John while staying out of reach of either. “I thank you, for protecting my person and keeping your word. Unfortunately, I have not kept mine.”

His voice carries across the crew, igniting their murmurs again. “What is this?” Angelica growls.

“My parole,” Aaron says loudly. “To cause no trouble or strife until we reach England and I can be ransomed. I am afraid my presence is trouble for your first mate. I ask that I may be quartered on a different ship, until we reach England, so your first mate may do his duty.”

Angelica’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” she demands.

He just shrugs, the briefest movement. “Parole was broken. The fault is mutual.” 

For just a moment, Maria wonders if the captain will strike him too. Instead she turns her focus to John, who looks like he can’t believe what was happening before him. “This changes nothing once we reach England. If this is how you will behave I will not have you.”

She turns, coats whirling, and gestures to indicates both Aaron and Maria. “You, you, with me.” 

Silently, they follow her. Just before she ducks below deck, Maria sees Alexander rush over to a still-trembling John, hears him shout that they all have work to do.

And then she is following Angelica through the belowdecks and into the captain’s cabin. _Her_ cabin, it has been for days, as Maria slept in the bed of a woman who would hurt those under her care so easily.

She tries not to flinch as Angelica slams her hands onto the desk. “I keep you safe - from my _own crew_ no less - and you repay me by questioning my authority in front of the crew?”

It’s times like these that Maria admires Aaron’s reserve. He doesn’t seem nervous at all, just quiet and intense. “I offered perspective. If hearing both sides of the story is a challenge to your authority, you have my apologies.”

Angelica flushes. “Why would you do it?” she demands. “He tried to kill you. Repeatedly. He argued for it, and will continue to do so. You put yourself in danger when you leave him free.”

“I believe I will be safe enough, with distance,” Aaron replies. “And I have seen enough to convince me, not of his humanity but of his commitment to you. To suddenly reject such a bond...” He meets the captain’s eyes, squarely. “It was not a crime of sound judgement and rational mind, as I’m sure you know. My honour is satisfied.” 

She meets his eyes for a long moment, the silence stretching so thin Maria is afraid to breathe. Then Angelica turns, back towards the table, sitting and pouring a tall glass of rum.

“Captain-”

“You may go.” Her voice brokers no argument. “Not you,” she adds, when Maria moves. 

Aaron touches her wrist, and Maria can see the concern in his eyes. She does her best to nod reassuringly. _Angelica will not hurt me_. She had to believe that, or she would be lost.

She waits, in the silence, as Angelica drinks her rum and pours two more glasses. Her eyes never leave the captain's back, but still the words startle her. 

“Sit. Drink.”

She does, taking a tentative sip of the rum. It’s terrible. It’s also _strong_ , and Maria is already doubting that this is a good idea.

“I saw the fear in your eyes, today.” Angelica’s eyes are focused only on her glass. “Today, above deck. It has been days since I’ve seen that fear in you. Tell me-” and her eyes shot up, dark and haunted, “what kind of monster you see me as.”

Maria said nothing. _Could_ say nothing, not here, not caught in Angelica’s dark eyes. 

Angelica seems to take that for an answer by itself. She downs the second glass of rum, and slams the glass back on the table. “Something had to be done. It could not- he’s getting worse, not better. That ship…”

At this Maria leans forward, just a little. “What about the ship? Why did he...”

“It was the ship he was imprisoned on,” Angelica says tonelessly. “Where they-” she made a chopping motion, and Maria’s stomach turned over. “I took the ship, I took him, but he never quite recovered. I wanted him to _captain_ it. He won’t even set foot on the deck.”

“Angelica…”

“I should have burned that thing when I killed her crew,” Angelica says. “Every one of them. If they would do that to a person… they deserved it, Maria, they did.”

“I believe you.”

Angelica pushed away from the table, stalking around the room. “They’ve not always though. To keep discipline on a ship, sometimes you have to make choices. To be a woman, and keep discipline on a ship, to have men follow you. You can’t even give them a reason to doubt.

“What is that, compared to John? Compared to anyone? I have… you cannot imagine what I have done, to protect that man. To give him a chance. And this, he throws back in my face? So that I have no choice…”

“You have a choice,” Maria said, softly. 

Angelica made a soft, scoffing noise. “I wanted to fight monsters. Instead I became one.”

“No.” Maria stands, and it’s enough to draw Angelica’s attention to her. “When I was in New York,” Maria says, blinking furiously and trying to keep her voice under control, “I did things I am not proud of. I slept with married men, so that my husband could blackmail them. I did this so he wouldn’t hit me, wouldn’t use me harshly, and that we would have money to live. I helped him ruin good men.”

“You were trying to stay alive-” Angelica protests.

“I was. And to do that I did these evil things, and I will never be able to take them back. Neither will you. We-” she breaks off, moving closer to Angelica. Angelica, who is watching her with wide dark eyes. “We make the choices we must. And we live with what we choose.”

And so it makes perfect sense when Angelica tilts her chin up and kisses her on the mouth. She tastes like the sea, salt and sun and just a little bit of freedom. And it’s so good, so impossibly good, that Maria-

She can’t do it. Not when they’re arriving in England in a few days, not when it’s impossible for there to be anything real. Maria rips away, arms up around her chest like a shield.

Angelica looks agonized. “Maria…”

Maria can’t move, frozen like a deer, as Angelica approaches. Angelica reaches up, very carefully, and brushes her fingers across Maria’s lips. “I will not touch you if you don’t desire it. If you are scared, if you are unsure… I remember what it’s like, to feel these things.”

Maria’s words are quiet, murmured as Angelica traces fingers over her cheek. “I don’t feel like that with you.”

Angelica smiles, her eyes searching Maria’s. “Stay?” she asks. “At least until we reach England?”

“Until we reach England,” Maria agrees, and allows herself to be drawn into Angelica’s embrace. The kiss tastes even better the second time. 

When she leaves the cabin, Aaron is waiting for her. “You’re supposed to be on a different ship,” she tells him, hoping the dim light below deck will hide her blush and her kiss-red lips.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.” Aaron says, stubborn as ever. “I don’t trust her, Maria.”

“I do,” Maria tells him flatly. “She made a mistake-” 

Aaron looks quickly at the door, ensuring it was closed, and continues in a furious whisper. “Maria, no one becomes a pirate queen by chance. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Maybe this one did!” Maria snaps, then collects herself. “I am not a fool, Aaron. When we reach England, you will be ransomed and we will leave. I know that. Please, do not…” she looks up, meeting his eyes in the darkness. “Do not take from me one good thing that I’ve found.”

Aaron softens. “I understand.” To Maria’s surprise, he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “Be careful. They may not be malicious, but pirates… they are broken people, Maria. People the world has failed. They don’t understand the world the same way we do.”

_Maybe that’s true. But I’m a little broken too._

She nods, and he gives her a sad smile before departing. 

It’s a long time before she makes her way back onto the deck, but at dusk, she finds herself sitting by the bow of the ship. The setting sun paints the sky with flame, and for once things feel quiet. John is nearby, tying ropes to hold something in place. She watches him too, the clever ways his fingers move to manipulate the rope even though he has two fewer than most. It's nice. Very nice. And for the first time, Maria begins to doubt.

In a few days' time, their little fleet will reach England. No one will ransom her, and Captain Angelica does not keep slaves. They'll let her go, Angelica's promised, and Maria believes her. And then... what? She will try and make a life in the smoky streets of England, likely as a household servant. She will work until she can't work anymore, and then she will die. What will she have then? A failed marriage, a lifetime of working and bowing and scraping to make each dollar last. What life is that?

A hand fell on her shoulder, but Maria didn't startle. She knew by now the thick feeling of Angelica's callouses, the length of her fingers. "I was looking for you," her captain murmured, watching the setting sun.

"Oh?" Maria leans into it, just a little. Just enough to feel the scratch of Angelica's coat on her cheek.

"It's late," Angelica says, as if that explains it. Maybe it does. "I didn't know you were with John."

She's not with John. "I am watching the sunset," Maria says. 

"Still, you're not afraid of him anymore."

"No." As they watch, John puts the ropes down and leans over the side. “I’m not afraid of anything anymore.” 

“I don’t know if he’ll forgive me. What I did… it was cruel.”

Maria doesn’t know either. John is devoted to his captain, and has been doing everything required of him, but he has also not spent a moment in Angelica’s company that he didn’t have to. “Time heals,” she offers. “You will let him stay?”

“If he so desires.” Angelica’s mouth twists. “He may not. John has ties in England too. Time...” She lapses into silence. Time is what they do not have.

At the bow of the ship, John's spotted something. His hair, loose from its tie, falls around his face and almost obscures the smile there.

His voice is low, but enough that they can hear. "There are dolphins, captain, if you and your woman want to see." 

Maria flushes, but Angelica doesn’t seem phased at the comment. She takes Maria’s hand. “Come and see.” 

Hand in hand they join John at the bow of the ship, just in time to see the last of the dolphin pod crest and disappear into the sea. 

There is still half a week before they reach England, but somehow it seems to lurk out of sight, just beyond the dip of the horizon and the burning rays of the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I may take some flack for this chapter. My tumblr is at thellamaduo.tumblr.com as always, and as always all comments and kudos are appreciated.


	5. The Hercules Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening a year earlier, when the fleet stops in Boston...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder of the crew members featured in this chapter
> 
> Maria "Ria" Cosway - an Italian artist who joined the crew, crazy good shot with a pistol but rather poor at cards  
> William North - a crewmember, in a relationship with Benjamin Walker  
> Revelation - medium boat, the flagship  
> Revolution - small boat, captained by Alexander and Eliza  
> Revenge - big boat
> 
> Thank you always to Oaxara's betaing

**August 3rd, 1781**

The tavern is so dim, it takes Angelica's eyes several moments to adjust. She resists the urge to blink, to tense, to do anything but wait calmly until she can see each of the tables in the dingy establishment; there’s gambling in the shadows by the door, a bar along the wall, and tables at the back where men of ill repute do business. 

Angelica smiles. Dim is good. All the better to hide in.

Her retinue are far less cautious. John would be, if he were here, but she left him with her ships. The scars that marred his face, chest, and arms make him a frightening figure even in the most dangerous areas of Boston, and she doesn’t want to attract that much attention. He’s best served keeping order on her ship, and she is left to make do.

Alexander scrambles over to the bar as soon as they enter, eager to hear any news that has trickled into Boston. Ria saunters over to the gambling, one hand on her pistol. Only North, tasked with guarding his captain, stays by her side. He blinks furiously in the candle-cut darkness. 

“Give it a moment,” Angelica murmurs to him. She’s scanning the tables for her business partner. “Let the darkness take shape.”

“Captain,” North acknowledges, trying to relax.

There he is. Off to the side, at a table awash in the golden light of candles on the wall. Angelica stalks over, slides into the seat across from him, and says, “I thought I’d find you in the shadows, there in the back.”

“Men in shadows have things to hide,” Hercules says. “No one thinks to look over here.” He’s got a drink in front of him and one for her, but Angelica doesn’t touch it. She trusts him not to poison her, but he’s not above getting her drunk to strike a better deal.

Instead she waits, watching him like a hawk. Behind her she can hear Alexander, asking desperately for any news from the Caribbean. 

“I hear you have some things to sell me,” Hercules says finally. 

“I do.” She slides a paper across the table, a list of her current haul. It’s quite impressive, a few bolts of silk and rare china plates, barrels of tobacco and rum (though significantly less rum than they’d found on the ship, once her crew had gotten ahold of it), and even some blocks of tea.

Hercules scans over the list, and Angelica sees his eyebrows rise. “You did well.”

“Fat merchant ship, just coming around the horn.” Angelica allows herself a smile. 

“The silk…” Hercules’ day job is as a tailor, she knows. Even if it’s just a cover for his operations in smuggling, spying, and connections, he does seem to genuinely enjoy it. She allows her smile to grow.

“Just for you, the finest quality. Red.”

His eyes meet hers. “Red.”

“Rich and bloody.” She has him now. “Red and green and a bolt of yellow so bright it will make lesser men weep. You know my ability to judge such things.”

“Indeed I do.” He pauses for a moment, then scribbles a number at the bottom of the pages and slides it back to her. 

She gives him a look. “Hercules. Please.”

“Business is business. What kind of man would I be if I let myself overpay for silks, even silks as fine as these?”

“A wise one,” she shoots back. “Who knows not to let such things fall out of his grasp. I see I should have gone to France instead.”

“The Frenchling would have overpayed you, probably. But France is weeks away and you are selling here.”

“The _Frenchling_ sent you a letter.” She holds it by a single finger and thumb, dangling it above the table. Hercules’ eyes follow it.

“Laf.”

“Yes.” She tosses it his way and he grabs it with an easy grace. “He sends his regards, and asks that you send one back before we raise anchor. Of course, if you continue to insult me and I leave to save my pride...”

Hercules sighs. He names a higher figure. Not high enough.

Angelica doesn’t dignify it with a reply. She stands, smooths her skirts, and makes a show of leaving. As she reaches out to grab her list of cargo, his hand snaps out to grab her wrist. 

Once, that would have frightened her. Once. But she is older now, and wiser. Hercules is not stupid or impulsive enough to hurt her. She just waits. 

After a long moment, he releases her and she sits. He names one more price. “And that is as high as I can go. Take it, or take your goods elsewhere.”

It’s not as much as she wanted, but it’s fair and it will please the crew. Angelica nods. “My man, Alexander, will draw up the terms and then take you to the ship. Unload them tonight, please, I have no liking for Boston.”

A true smile breaks out onto his face. “Alexander’s here?”

She huffs out a laugh and nods towards the bar, where Alexander is unsuccessfully attempting to flirt his way into another drink. Hercules is up like a shot and halfway there before she can say another word.

“Are you sure that’s wise, captain?” North asks her quietly. He hasn’t moved since she sat down, trusting his captain can handle herself. It’s why she brings him instead of one of the others. 

“Not wise, no.” She watches Hercules and Alexander thump each other on the back, crowing greetings and ordering drinks. “But let the boy have his fun.”

“And if it comes at the cost of our trading relationship?”

“I doubt there is anything Alexander can say to put him off. He is, inexplicably, very fond of our dear Alexander.” A fondness her sister shared. Blessing their marriage was one of the most rewarding things she has done to date as captain, followed shortly by gifting them the _Revolution_ as a wedding present. Now that she had three ships (as small as the little sloop was), she needed someone to captain it without causing trouble. And who better than her dear sister, and the man who stole the ship in the first place?

“And will you be finding anyone to be fond of, while we’re in Boston?” North asks mildly.

She gives him a look. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He’s looking straight ahead, face the very picture of innocence. “There are some women by the door who seem to be working that trade, should you find yourself in need of comfort, captain.”

Embarrassingly, Angelica feels her cheeks warm. “A captain has no need of such things.” And besides, she’s already glanced over them on her way in the door. All three of the girls clustered around the door are blonde and white as snow. Pretty, perhaps, but nothing that stirs her.

“Of course,” North says. “And that woman from the Caribbean, when we took our last prize? And Ria, before she joined the crew? I didn’t know they were nothing.”

She gives him a short, hard, shove, enough to send him stumbling. “Go and watch the door, I need a drink.”

She gets one, careful to stay out of reach of Alexander and Hercules, and- god, she thought the rum they had on the ship was bad. Discreetly, she drops the mug back onto the bar. 

Perhaps she will find a woman while they’re here. It will take a day or two for Hercules to have all of her goods unloaded and shipped out, and the crew will be doing their best to give her a headache. And provided the girl is not married and was willing… what is the harm? It may clear her head for the days at sea to come.

Ria struts up to the bar, and before she can order Angelica passes her the mug of god-awful rum. Ria downs it without a second thought. “Keeping an eye on your crew, captain?”

“What did you do now?”

“Won at cards, but I wasn’t talking about myself.” Ria jerks her head to the other side of the bar.

God, Alexander. Her head whips around, but she sees no one arguing atop tables and no one throwing punches. Alexander and Hercules are pressed close, deep in conversation. “What of it?”

Ria shrugs, tosses her curls over one shoulder. “Seem to remember him taking your sister for a wife. Would she approve of this?”

Angelica turns back to look at them again, eyes narrowing. Notes the way Alexander is sitting, practically in Hercules’ lap, with Hercules’ hand on his thigh to steady him. The way they spoke, lips to ear in the rowdy tavern. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” she says to Ria, sliding off her seat and walking over to them. 

“Alexander! I am returning to the ship and I need an escort.”

His head rolls to look at her. “Can’t North do it? I haven’t seen Hercules in months.”

“I’m sure _your wife_ is waiting for you,” Angelica says through gritted teeth.

“You got married?” Hercules turns to look at him in surprise. “Out at sea?”

At least he has the good graces to blush. “I did.”

“Back to the ship,” Angelica cuts him off before he can say anything else. “Eliza will be wondering where you are, and your captain has business to attend to.”

“Yes, captain.” Alexander sighs, hauling himself to his feet. “I’ll call on you?” he asks Hercules.

“Another time.” The man’s face is inscrutable.

A brief moment to collect Ria and North, and they’re in the cool Boston air. 

Alexander catches up to her. “Captain…”

“It would please me if you would stay on the ships while we are docked in Boston,” Angelica says firmly. “I need someone to oversee the unloading of all our goods, and who better than my sister and her husband?” She can’t force Alexander to stay faithful, but she can remove any temptation from his path. Eliza deserves at least that much.

“Yes, captain.” Alexander sees his defeat. 

“My sister loves you dearly. Do your best to not disappoint her.”

In the night air, Alexander’s eyes flash. They’re dark, and luminous, and she can see how they would be enticing. Such determination, such promise. “Never,” he says, and for once she believes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter up soon to continue the main story - It's John's pov to boot
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> hehehe
> 
> If you wanna yell at/with me, find me on tumblr [here](thellamaduo.tumblr.com) or sound off in the comments.
> 
> John's story about his cousin is true by the way, though I simplified it. Henry Laurens covered it up instead of charging the young man, as he thought such a scandal would taint the family.


End file.
